


Little Lady

by CrowKing



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Tumblr request, fluff? as fluff as you can get with Ramsay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 11:39:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17487401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowKing/pseuds/CrowKing
Summary: Request: If requests are open what about one where creepy Ramsey gets his love a dog to protect her and it’s all cute and fluffy





	Little Lady

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try something different for this fic. Hope you guys like it

They called you Little Raven. Your father was the Butcher at the Dreadfort, but your older sister was the butcher’s girl. You were Little Raven. The way you traveled between people, doing errand after errand, note after note. You were a bird that flew around the castle. You were loved by most of the Dreadfort, including its lord.

“Little Raven, what do you have for me today?” Roose bent down and opened his hand. You, a girl of only ten, handed the Lord of the Dreadfort news you couldn’t read. You watched as the Lord’s eyebrows knitted together. Roose Bolton left the Dreadfort and came back with his bastard son, a boy of fourteen. You only caught a glimpse of him, but he was striking image of his father.

You trotted back into the lord’s room to find both father and bastard son in it.

“Ah! Little Raven meet my son, Ramsay. He will be staying with us from now on,” Roose turned to his son. “Be kind to her. She’s the Butcher’s youngest.” Ramsay walked over to you. His ice cold eyes struck you. You felt a warmth in your stomach that you hadn’t felt before.

“Hello little lady,” he greeted you. His presence was more intimidating than you wanted to admit.

Soon, things started to change at the Dreadfort. Things were busier and people were settling in more. In Ned Stark’s words, winter was coming. People from the country moved closer to shelter themselves from thieves and murderers. Your wings flew faster between rooms and hallways, but Ramsay always let you take a break when you could.

“C’mere Little Raven,” he beckoned you to come close. Ramsay grabbed you and sat you next to him. You sat high above the Dreadfort, watching all the activity from above. He pointed towards three guards. “Watch this.” 

You heard the pull of a bow and the wind of a release. The arrow landed at the feet of the three guards, each screamed and scattered, desperate to find their enemy. You giggled and laughed at Ramsay’s awful prank.

“Did you like that?”

“That was funny!” There was something in your smile that did it. Ramsay’s warm mouth kissed your cheek so gently. You had heard awful rumors from the adults. How your father watched him butcher a rabbit for fun. How his pranks actually hurt people. How cruel he was, but you didn’t believe any of them. Ramsay was kind to you.

As the years moved on, you grew older. Your body changed. Your jobs changed. Your father was still the Dreadfort’s butcher. Your sister was now married to one of Roose’s minions. You were no longer a ‘little’ raven. You spent more time mending clothes than flying from room to room. 

Your father wanted to match you with a suitor, but no one seemed to come forward. Your father became frustrated with the process, but you knew something he did not. Ramsay’s attention on you grew longer and needier. 

You mended Ramsay’s torn shirt. You told yourself you mended this shirt before. You picked up the same spot and saw Ramsay cut it back open with a knife. You shook your head. Why would he do that? As you put the needle through the fabric, one of Roose’s minions stumbled through.

“Fix this,” he threw his heavy cloak at you. You could smell the ale on him.

“Yes, sir,’ you said quietly. 

“What was that?” he lunged at you. You fell over on your chair. He grabbed a hold of your arm, tearing the fabric away. He lunged at you again with a weapon. He nicked the same arm. Upset and panicked, you ran to the only person who made you feel safe.

You rushed to Ramsay’s chambers and quickly knocked on his door. When he emerged, he took the sight in. You had wide eyes and tried to catch your breath. Ramsay moved your hand to reveal the cut in your upper arm. Blood streamlined down your skin. Your torn fabric dangled at your side. You watched Ramsay’s face turn into anger. His eyes looked into yours.

“Tell me who.”

“I don’t know his name.”

“What did he look like?”

“Taller than Locke. Same dark hair. Smelled of ale.”

“Podge,” Ramsay moved past you. You followed him throughout the Dreadfort. Your hand was in his. Ramsay grabbed a dagger from the weaponry and came upon his father’s men. He pushed past them to get to his victim. Ramsay took the dagger and slashed at Podge’s face. He screamed and fell over to the floor. Podge held his face as blood splattered everywhere.

His father’s men looked to him. Ramsay stood over them all.

“No one touches her.” He left with you, kissing your temple. Your fingers still entwined with his. “That won’t happen again, I promise, my lady.”

The next day Ramsay brought you inside the kennels. Sounds of barks and growls filled your ears, but what stood before you was nothing like you have ever seen before. A large, black Pitbull stood before you. Silent. Her eyes looked empty but could hold leagues of anger. Her paws seemed to be the size of your own hands. You didn’t want to see her angry.

“Who is this?” you asked nervously.

“This is Lady,” Ramsay introduced you. He whistled and Lady came to you and sat down. “She’s your little Lady now. No one will scare you ever again.” You scratched her ears. Lady relaxed under your touch and kissed your hand.

“Thank you, Ramsay,” you told him. “She’s lovely.”

Ramsay kissed your cheek once more. “I take care of my girls.”


End file.
